MALATESTA.  I’ll break your head, knave!

  PEPE.  I claim sanctuary.

MALATESTA.  Why, bridegroom, will you never kiss the bride? 
We all are mad to follow you.

PEPE.  Yes, yes;
Here was Paolo wetting his red lips
For the last minute.  Kiss, and give him room.

  MALATESTA.  You heaven-forsaken imp, be quiet now!

  PEPE.  Then there’d be naught worth hearing.

  MALATESTA.  Bridegroom, come!

PEPE.  Lord! he don’t like it!  Hey!—­I told you so—­
He backs at the first step.  Does he not know
His trouble’s just begun?

  LANCIOTTO.  Gentle Francesca,
Custom imposes somewhat on thy lips: 
I’ll make my levy. [Kisses her.  The others follow.]
       [Aside.] Ha! she shrank!  I felt
Her body tremble, and her quivering lips
Seemed dying under mine!  I heard a sigh,
Such as breaks hearts—­O! no, a very groan;
And then she turned a sickly, miserable look
On pale Paolo, and he shivered too! 
There is a mystery hangs around her,—­ay,
Paolo knows it, too.—­By all the saints,
I’ll make him tell it, at the dagger’s point! 
Paolo!—­here!  I do adjure you, brother,
By the great love I bear you, to reveal
The secret of Francesca’s grief.

  PAOLO.  I cannot.

  LANCIOTTO.  She told you nothing?

  PAOLO.  Nothing.

  LANCIOTTO.  Not a word?

  PAOLO.  Not one.

  LANCIOTTO.  What heard you at Ravenna, then?

  PAOLO.  Nothing.

  LANCIOTTO.  Here?

  PAOLO.  Nothing.

LANCIOTTO.  Not the slightest hint?—­
Don’t stammer, man!  Speak quick!  I am in haste.

  PAOLO.  Never.

  LANCIOTTO.  What know you?

PAOLO.  Nothing that concerns
Your happiness, Lanciotto.  If I did,
Would I not tell unquestioned?

LANCIOTTO.  Would you not? 
You ask a question for me:  answer it.

  PAOLO.  I have.

LANCIOTTO.  You juggle, you turn deadly pale,
Fumble your dagger, stand with head half round,
Tapping your feet.—­You dare not look at me! 
By Satan!  Count Paolo, let me say,
You look much like a full-convicted thief!

  PAOLO.  Brother!—­

LANCIOTTO.  Pshaw! brother!  You deceive me, sir: 
You and that lady have a devil’s league,
To keep a devil’s secret.  Is it thus
You deal with me?  Now, by the light above
I’d give a dukedom for some fair pretext
To fly you all!  She does not love me?  Well,
I could bear that, and live away from her. 
Love would be sweet, but want of it becomes